Night Before Christmas
by Exploded Pen
Summary: Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, nothing was stirring except Malcolm Reed...


**000 Disclaimer, I own nothing 000 This is me getting into the Christmas spirit :D, it's a little one-shot about a happy time in the Reed household **

**Merry Christmas Everyone! 000**

Malcolm sprinted silently down the hallway, pistol in hand. The house was dark, almost silent save the quiet rustling from downstairs. Malcolm glanced into his sister's bedroom as he passed, seeing a faint silhouette of Maddie's sleeping form. Satisfied he turned to his next obstacle – the staircase.

The staircase had at one time been a source of much frustration to him. It had put to rest many a plan by creaking and groaning at the worst possible moment, usually resulting in one of his parents swooping down on him demanding to know why he was out of bed so late – and didn't he know Santa wouldn't come if he wasn't asleep?

However those days were long behind him, he had been seven back then, young and stupid. Now, at eight years of age he had finally mastered the staircase. No more pesky stairs for him! He was now expert at moving down the stairs silently and at speed.

In other words he was now tall enough to be able to climb up on to the banister.

Deftly he climbed up and slid down the banister, neatly avoiding the tinsel wrapped round the sides and landing with a barely audible thump at the bottom.

The rustling seemed louder now, coming from out the living room. Malcolm glanced at the water pistol in his hand, he was man of the house, his daddy had told him so, told him to watch out for Maddie and mum.

He knew it wasn't his mum downstairs; he had woken when she had gone to bed. Not only that but he had then heard the front door open. He thought it might be Santa but then immediately dismissed the idea – Santa came down the chimney, everyone knew that.

Of course, he wasn't entirely trusting of his mother not to take away his Christmas presents, something she had threatened to do after the now not talked about custard incident at Grandma's house.

Malcolm stood outside the living room door nibbling his lip, he considered for a fleeting second about running back to his mum. He dismissed the thought quickly, Dad had told him to look after them, and that's what he was going to do.

Malcolm hitched up his pyjama bottoms and cautiously opened the door (just in case it was Santa – he didn't want to lose out on his presents). It silently opened a crack, revealing the half lit room within.

A figure was knelt beside the tree, presents clearly in his hands.

Malcolm's jaw dropped. They were being robbed! He knocked against the door causing it to groan on its hinges as it protested at the sudden movement.

The figure underneath the tree turned immediately, Malcolm raised his water pistol and fired, suddenly unable to do anything else.

"Argh, stop it!" the figure exclaimed in a hushed whisper, almost dropping the present in his hand. "Malcolm, it's me!"

Malcolm dropped the water pistol, he recognised that voice. "Daddy?" he asked uncertainly.

The man before him lay the present in his hands under the tree. Malcolm shuffled uncertainly, his eyes flickering over to the pile of presents wondering if Santa would try and take his back for attacking his father with a water pistol.

"Mum said you weren't coming home for Christmas this year," he ventured nervously. "She said…"He paused a moment trying to recall what his mother had said to him. "She said that you were, umm, away on important duty."

His father smiled sadly at him then straightened. "What are you doing out of bed anyway? Hoping to see Santa?"

Malcolm shook his head vigorously. "Nope, I heard the front door open, and I knew it wasn't mum 'cause I heard her go to bed, and I knew it wasn't Santa 'cause everyone knows Santa comes down the chimney, and you told me I had to look after everyone so I came down to see what was happening." He paused and poked the water pistol with his foot. "Honest."

His father chuckled lightly. "That's my boy." He walked over to Malcolm, leaned over and picked him up, lightly hugging him. "Merry Christmas, son."

Malcolm smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Daddy."

His father nodded slightly and hefted Malcolm up in his arms. "Let's get you back to bed before your mother finds you're missing."

Malcolm sighed. "Alright," he paused watching sadly as the pile of presents moved further and further away as his father carried him out the living room. "Can't I open my presents now?"

His father just laughed.

**000 Please Review 000**


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